


a salad with too much cheese

by narryblossom



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Endgame Niall Horan/Harry Styles, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:30:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narryblossom/pseuds/narryblossom
Summary: “The early bird gets the worm,” they say in unison, and Niall smiles. He likes familiarity, likes that Harry’s never sighed at him and asked him to stop whining or tried to change the way things are--it’s good for them both, really, to have something stable.So when Harry starts seeing someone and things change, Niall doesn’t know what to do with himself.(A piece in which Niall and Harry find out they're meant for each other through trial and error.)





	a salad with too much cheese

**Author's Note:**

> [basement-hero](http://basement-hero.tumblr.com/) dared me to use this title. you can find me [here on tumblr.](http://narryblossom.tumblr.com/)

It’s not uncommon for Niall and Harry to stumble home together with a bit of alcohol in their systems--granted, it’s not as much as either of them would have had  _ ideally  _ to celebrate a successful night at work, but it’s their preferred number split between the two of them, and that’s all they could really ask for on their busker’s budget.

They’re all smiles and giggles while Harry jingles their keys while they trot to the door of the tiniest flat in the neighborhood--Niall nudges his guitar case against Harry’s backside and mumbles at him to hurry up while he tries to fit the key into the lock.

It’s like this most nights--the neighbors stopped complaining ages ago, finally becoming able to tune it out and sleep right through their noise as they trod into their tiny space, kicking off their shoes and throwing their clothes left and right.

Harry yawns first almost every night--it’s silly that Niall’s noticed, but he thinks it’s just ‘cause Harry’s an early riser, always up before eight, getting Niall up at nine with breakfast or a cuddle or humming in the shower.

“It’s too  _ early _ ,” Niall whines, rubbing his eyes like he can force them to adjust to the dust-filled sunlight that streams in past the curtains that Harry’s already opened.

“It’s really not,” Harry sings back with a smile.

“The early bird gets the worm,” they say in unison, and Niall smiles. He likes familiarity, likes that Harry’s never sighed at him and asked him to stop whining or tried to change the way things are--it’s good for them both, really, to have something stable.

So when Harry starts seeing someone and things change, Niall doesn’t know what to do with himself.

It’s not that he doesn’t know how to take care of himself, ’cause he does and he has been for years before he even met Harry, but it’s weird every time he wakes up alone. The first time it happens, he gets a warning, at least.

“I’ll be out tonight, Ni,” Harry says, smiling nervously at him through his reflection in the mirror. His fingers struggle to push each button through every corresponding hole, but by the time Niall has stopped staring at him and thinks about helping, he’s done anyway.

“Where?” is all Niall can ask--he feels a bit like a twat when Harry gets this look on his face, kinda like he thinks Niall didn’t trust him or something.

“You know that girl I’ve been talking to lately?” he asks anyway, brushing the doubt out of his mind, giving Niall an unwavering smile. “We’re going on an actual date.”

Ah, that one. It’s not uncommon for Niall and Harry to finish a show at their friend’s bar down the street and then hang around for another couple of hours helping clean up to get a few tips here and there. It’s been lately that Harry hasn’t really done so much of the work ‘cause every night this posh looking girl comes in and they chat. Niall’s seen Harry captivated before--Harry tends to fall in love with most people he meets--but it’s not really been like  _ this _ .

_ “Oh _ ,” Niall drawls, wagging his eyebrows. “Alright, mate. Do you need any extra cash or something, you can get some out of the case.”

They both laugh at how fatherly Niall sounds saying that.

“No,” Harry breathes on a sigh, “I’ve saved some up.”

There isn’t much conversation after that--Harry’s out the door and Niall’s sitting alone in the living room.

Niall just doesn’t know what to do without Harry--that’s different than not knowing  _ how _ to do anything. He usually watches all his shows with Harry so he feels like he’s sneaking ahead when he watches them without him, and watching movies isn’t the same without Harry’s commentary on them. Niall could watch golf, Harry was never  _ really _ as into it as Niall, but then there’s no humming from the open bedroom door across the room as Harry tries to write their next song so they can take another cover off their setlist.

“I think I’m in way over my head, Niall,” Harry sighs into his shoulder a couple months after it all starts.

“You like her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but that’s--”

“That’s what’s important, mate. Whatever else you’re feeling shouldn’t outweigh how much you like her.”

“I wish it was that easy,” Harry mumbles, tucking his legs up and basically into Niall’s side, burrowing his head further into Niall’s neck and shoulder.

“Why isn’t it?” Niall’s hand rubs down Harry’s back gently, going back and forth until Harry relaxes his shoulders a bit.

“She’s royal. Like,  _ proper _ royal. Dad’s in the papers and all that. She wants me to meet her parents but what kind of business do I have being with a duchess?”

“A--wait, she’s?”

_ “Yeah _ , that’s kinda how I reacted, too. Last time I saw her she just kinda kissed me and went ‘oh I’m a duchess by the way.’ I didn’t know what to fuckin’ do. I mean, I knew she was posh, but not like... _ royal. _ ”

“Well hopefully you didn’t say  _ that _ to her.”

“Nah,” Harry chuckles softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “just kept kissin’ her. I’m supposed to be a gentleman I think, and gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, Nialler.”

“Looks like you’ve already broken that rule,” Niall laughs, gingerly smacking the back of Harry’s head.

“You don’t count,” Harry mumbles, and Niall can feel him smiling against his skin.

“Whatever, mate,” Niall chuckles. “Don’t let your girl get away just ‘cause you’re scared. You’re just as worthy of a duchess as any other bloke who plays in bars for money.”

Harry groans but he doesn’t complain--he knows Niall’s kidding and he likes the way it sounds. It’s true, anyway.

Niall thinks that’s the moment that really caused all of this to happen.

He doesn’t regret it--not really ‘cause Harry seems happy and that’s what’s important--but he thinks it’s weird to see him leave with a wave over his shoulder and a watery smile.

Niall doesn’t like that he has to sleep on an empty bed every night. He tries to sleep in the middle sometimes, but since the bed he and Harry shared was really only two twin mattresses on the floor tucked into the same king sized sheet, he keeps falling in the damn gap in the middle while he’s sleeping. He doesn’t like sleeping on Harry’s side ‘cause it feels wrong, like he’s not supposed to be there.

Niall thinks he’s depressed. All the songs he’s been writing lately are sad songs, and the bartender has stopped him more than once to ask where Harry’s gone since he’s stopped coming to do shows. Apparently he hasn’t seen the papers.

Harry and his duchess have only been together a year, but the paper tells Niall they’re engaged. It also shows him pictures of their huge estate, and tells that they’re supposedly preparing for children.

It sounds like Harry, alright. He kept Niall up some nights talking about how he’d get rich and buy a big house and fall in love and have a small militia of babies, but Niall didn’t think it’d happen so soon. He always kind of thought that if Harry gets famous, Niall’d be there beside him on stage, not watching the news and waiting for the papers to find out what Harry’s up to.

It doesn’t really bother him that he hasn’t heard from Harry in a couple months, either--not anymore. When they first started losing touch, Niall felt like he was losing a bit of himself, as cheesy as it is. Harry was always right at his side like a  _ literal extension _ of himself, so...makes sense that Harry would know everything about Niall and every thought in his head. It’s weird finding someone that you can be so open with and then they’re just...gone.

But really, even if Niall  _ is _ kind of mad at Harry, he can’t be mad when Harry wakes him up at nine by pounding on the front door.

“What, what do you  _ want _ ,” Niall’s yelling as he throws the covers off of himself and climbs his way out of bed. There’s no answer which worries him a little, but when he opens the door he’s worried  _ a lot _ .

“H? What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, uh… Can we talk? Inside? Like, can I, uh…”

“Of course, yeah.”

Niall hates how awkward it feels letting Harry into the messy flat, especially since this doesn’t even look like his Harry anymore with his trimmed hair and fancy new clothes. He still goes to the same space, though, right against the arm and the back of the couch and sits with his legs on the seat beside him.

Niall sits beside him and watches for a moment just to see if Harry’s gonna speak or chew his lip off first--it seems like the latter is going to happen if Niall doesn’t say something soon.

“Are you okay, H?”

“So… I should say yes, shouldn’t I?”

“Well I mean--not if you’re not okay…?”

“I don’t even know what’s going  _ on _ anymore, Ni.”

“Well I certainly don’t,” Niall defends, “so you’re gonna have to slow down and start somewhere else ‘cause I’ve no clue what you’re on about.”

“We’re supposed to get married this summer, she and I. Supposed to have a huge wedding and the Queen’s gonna be there and I’m gonna be a fucking  _ duke _ . Do you know what a duke does, Niall?”

“No?”

“A lot of boring shit! I don’t get to play music or cook my own food or go on jogs anymore, I have to wake up when I’m told and go to meetings and--well,  _ sometimes _ we get a nice little time off but we have to stay holed up at home. I don’t  _ want _ to be a duke, Niall.”

Niall watches Harry with his brows furrowed. It’s weird to see him sit down and actually  _ complain _ about something--usually Harry keeps everything inside and tries to only say good things, but this…

“This is weird,” Niall admits. “I mean, like, I dunno what to say, dude. I’ve never been in this position before. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Tell me  _ something _ , Niall!”

“You love her.”

“Something I  _ don’t _ know,” Harry sighs, turning his body towards the back of the couch. He curls up the same way he did the day he told Niall he was dating a duchess. It’s...familiar, and it makes Niall reach out for him.

Harry scoots into Niall’s arms and rests his arm across his narrow waist, burying his face against his neck like he’s done a hundred times.

“I don’t really know what you’re up to anymore, H, so I don’t really know what to tell you. If you love her, you should be with her, but if being with her doesn’t make you happy, then maybe you should consider… yanno…”

“I know…” Harry mumbles, “but do  _ you know _ what kind of media storm that will cause? The people love a wedding; if we call it off, they’re gonna know, and they’re gonna go  _ crazy _ .”

“But H, it’s not even  _ your _ wedding at that point, is it? It’s a wedding for the people. I’m not gonna watch you through the papers lookin’ like you wanna off yourself any chance you get. I’ll keep you here if I have to, won’t let you leave,” Niall locks his arms around Harry tightly, “‘cause I’m not gonna let you make yourself do something you’re not happy with.”

_ “Niall _ ,” Harry whines, but he doesn’t pull back--in fact, Niall feels him tug himself closer. “There’s no one I can talk to. I’m afraid her dad might kill me if I tell him I wanna call off the wedding, but I can’t stand to look at her and tell her she’s not worth it. She’s beautiful and  _ so kind _ , but she’s  _ boring _ honestly, and I--I belong  _ here _ , I’m supposed to live in this shitty little flat with you and play shitty music in a shitty pub and be  _ happy _ .”

“You’re too cheesy, H,” Niall laughs sarcastically, smacking the back of Harry’s head. “Cut it out.”

“What’s  _ too cheesy _ really? Nothing can be too cheesy.” Harry lifts his head and grins, and Niall only rolls his eyes.

“Sure they can.”

“Like what then?”

“I dunno like what, H, but I’ll think on it and tell you later. We’ve got other things to be thinkin’ of, don’t we?”

“I don’t  _ wanna _ .” And Harry’s back to whining at the mere mention of the thought of his problems.

“I hate to break it to ya,” Niall says, taking in a deep breath.

“No,” Harry interrupts, “I mean I don’t wanna do it. I don’t wanna marry her and be a duke. I don’t wanna go back at all.”

“Well,” Niall pauses, thinking of what to say. He wouldn’t mind if Harry were to just stay here and never go back so that  _ they _ could go back to the way things were, but he knows that’s not a viable option. “You gotta tell them. Cancel the wedding, pack your things, and come home.”

“Home?” Harry asks, looking at Niall expectantly.

“Of course, you idiot. This is your home. You’re gonna go from sleeping with a duchess to sleepin’ next to me again, I hope you know, still on our shitty beds on the floor.”

“I love our beds on the floor,” Harry pouts. “It’s cozy.”

“Wipe that look off your face,” Niall laughs, shoving Harry back so that he tips onto his back, splaying his limbs out all over the couch (and Niall) as he looks up at him in shock.

“Go sort your shit out and then come talk to me about how cozy  _ my _ bed is.”

“You’re a  _ pest _ , Niall Horan,” Harry laughs, darting up to smack a slobbery kiss to his cheek. “Expect me home for dinner, dear.”

“Fuck  _ off _ ,” Niall laughs back, swinging his foot up to kick Harry’s ass as he turns away.

Harry’s not back for dinner. Not that day or the next one or the day after that. Niall starts to worry that maybe his almost father-in-law really  _ did _ kill him for calling off the wedding, but there’s no news of the wedding stopping so far as Niall can tell.

He’s feeling nothing but melancholy when he trudges through the rain to get to his next show. He’s lucky that Louis still pays him to play anymore since he’s not even half as good without Harry.

“Saw your boyfriend in here last night,” Louis says as he’s polishing glasses in the back room where Niall hangs his coat. “Think he was looking for you. Hey, so… I know I never asked, but what happened with you two? Rough break up or something?”

“My--what? Who are you talking about?”

_ “Harry _ . He came in here, like even back into this room looking for you. I guess he thought you still played on Thursdays?”

“Harry’s--Do you not know about Harry?”

“I don’t know much of anything outside of football and my family. Is there something I  _ should _ know?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Well clearly not  _ anymore _ . You didn’t say how you broke up, though.”

“We were never together to begin with,” Niall shrugs. “We’re just mates.”

“You sure don’t seem to like that,” Louis smirks. Niall frowns while he puts the guitar strap over his shoulder, situating the instrument across his chest like some sort of safety blanket.

“Why wouldn’t I? We really are just mates, he’s off with his fiancee, everything’s dandy.”

_ “Ohh _ ,” Louis nods. “Okay. I see.”

_ “What _ do you see?” Niall asks, tossing a defensive look towards Louis. He isn’t really sure why he’s acting like this--it’s not like it’s the first time someone’s thought he and Harry were A Thing, but it just seems weirder to come from someone he considers a friend rather than a random barista or teenager passing them on the street.

“That it’s time for your show to start. Don’t be late Horan, I pay you by the hour.” Louis’s face splits into a shit-eating grin, and Niall can’t help but smile back.

“Unbelievable,” he laughs, turning out of the room. “You’re unbelieve, Louis!”

“Says you!” follows him out of the room.

When Niall goes back to his flat after the show with a new, crisp note in his pocket, he nearly slips in a puddle of water in his entry way.

“Mother  _ fuck _ \--” he yelps in surprise, barely catching his balance, stopping himself from falling to the ground.

“Niall?” a concerned voice calls from the bedroom. Harry comes out with wet hair and nothing on but a pair of  _ Niall’s _ joggers, and Niall can’t find it in himself to be angry.

“Just about to drown in the doorway, is all,” Niall comments, stepping around the water. “What’s that from, anyway?”

“Must have been raining when I came in,” Harry mumbles softly, getting a rag from the kitchen to wipe the water up with.

“It’s fine, H.” Niall leaves his shoes by the door, the guitar case in its spot against the wall, and his clothes in a pile on the floor along with Harry’s. He yawns and falls into bed, rolling instinctively towards the warm spot near the middle.

“D’ya ever think we’re like an old married couple?” Harry asks as he turns out the light and lays down beside him.

“Only every day of my life.”

Niall closes his eyes and is about to fall asleep when Harry turns his back and scoots close to him, silently begging to be the little spoon like always.

“You know what can have too much cheese?” Niall asks.

“What?” He can hear the smile on Harry’s face.

“Salad. Salads can have too much cheese.”

Harry laughs hysterically, turning his face into the pillow to muffle the noise. Niall thinks this is what he wants: Harry, their shitty apartment, the shitty gap in their beds on the floor, and their shitty jokes.

“A salad with too much cheese,” Harry reiterates.

“I guess that’s what we are, then.”

“Hey,” Harry says, turning to look over his shoulder, “you ever heard that joke about making tiny salads every time you eat a salad?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Niall laughs, groaning playfully while leaning away from Harry.

Harry giggles and grabs Niall’s arm as it slides off of his waist, pulling him in close again.

“Love you, Ni.”

“I’ve always loved you, H.”


End file.
